Nesting
by Deandra
Summary: Lothiriel’s inexplicable behavior bewilders Eomer. Fluffy little ONESHOT. Part 71 of the Elfwine Chronicles.


**_Part 71 of the Elfwine Chronicles. The Elfwine Chronicles are a series of one-shots built around the family group of Eomer, Lothiriel and Elfwine. The total number will depend on how many ideas I get for new vignettes._**

**_A/N: Nope - not on the list either. But I guess the other story, "Attraction", got me to thinking along "due to deliver soon" lines and I remembered this phenomenon. Isn't physiology a grand thing? This story follows just a couple months after "Attraction". Also, am presently working on more Theomund/Fele, so if you have suggestions you want to make, get them in quick!  
_**

**_RE: AUTHOR'S PLEA in Detente: Some of you offered good suggestions, though I should have been more specific in that I'm looking for how their WIVES would describe them, not just generally descriptive terms. Some of you mentioned "warrior" which is accurate, but probably not how the wives would describe their husbands. Until you actually see a Chronicle from me where the wives do this, you are still free to submit ideas. I sort of have a word for each guy, but I have not yet written the story. Just today someone sent their ideas and because of that I may change what I settled on. Until it is actually written and posted, it is still open to inspired changes! Thanks for all your help. ("I would like input on what single word or phrase you would use to describe Eomer, Faramir, Aragorn and Elfwine. I did something similar with the guys describing their wives, but I'm having trouble pegging the guys.")_**

**Nesting**

**(Mar, 3021 III)**

Eomer's first thought, upon entering his bedchamber, was that someone had snuck in and ransacked the room. He might have immediately bellowed for the guards had he not then noticed his wife standing calmly by the dresser, sorting through one of the many piles strewn everywhere.

"Thiri? What...are you doing, beloved?" he cautiously queried.

Her face lit up and, ignoring the question, she exclaimed, "Ah, Eomer! Good! Dearest, help me move this chest over there, and then I want to put those chairs here and –"

Interrupting, Eomer asked incredulously, "You want to move furniture? Thiri, you are due to deliver a child any day now! Can this not wait? Or let the servants do it for you while you direct them? You should not be taxing your strength so, my love!"

As if she hadn't heard a word he said, she began struggling to push the chest toward the desired spot. For a moment, Eomer was too stunned with disbelief to act, but then he hastily moved to restrain her. Wrapping his arms around her, he tried to pull her from the task, but she resisted even as he attempted to reason with her, "Please, dearest, you should not be doing this! You will harm yourself and our child!"

"Nonsense!" she answered, wriggling to wrestle her way free from his hold. "I want to get these things taken care of before our child comes." She broke loose and moved over to a pile of clothes on the bed, which she began sorting into several stacks. After watching a moment, Eomer realized she was sorting everything by color, as well as unfolding and refolding each and every item. Nevermind that none of them needed it in the first place.

Not quite aware of what he was doing, Eomer stumbled out into the hall, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. He had a vague notion he should try to find someone to help him with his wife, and put an end to this bizarre behavior. As he tried to determine the best course, his attention was drawn by Meduseld's head housekeeper, Durucwen, coming down the hall. Gratefully, he hurried to her and explained his dilemma.

Rather to his astonishment, she merely chuckled and gave him a knowing nod, "Yes, she was in the kitchen yesterday! It will not be long now."

"Long? What do you mean?" Eomer asked in confusion.

"Til the babe comes, my lord." She patted his arm reassuringly, saying, "Do not be alarmed. This nesting is normal. Just let her be. You could not stop her if you tried. _She_ could not stop herself if _she_ tried." With that, she bustled on down the hall, leaving Eomer more than a little confused.

Luckily for him, Miren approached just then and, noting the expression on his face, surmised the problem. She had been with Lothiriel earlier, and been sent to arrange for buckets and brushes so the bedchamber could be scrubbed. With an understanding grin, she told him, "Be calm, my lord. Most women go through this as their time draws near. It seems to be something within us that drives us to prepare for the coming child. You are fortunate – I do believe Lothiriel's case is rather mild! I have heard of some who do far more than this, to the consternation of their husbands. Just go along with it. I will keep an eye on her so she does not overdo."

Still not entirely reassured about the matter, but trusting Miren to be as good as her word, Eomer cast one last glance at his bedchamber, where Lothiriel's efforts had continued unabated. With a sigh, he returned to his study, not even realizing he had quite forgotten why he had come to his room in the first place.

xxxxx

A persistent screeching finally broke through Eomer's slumber, and he raised his head to look around questioningly. The fire had burned down quite a bit, so light in the room was dim. He knew it must be the wee hours of the morning. It took a moment to pinpoint what had wakened him, and then he saw the candle moving in the nursery.

Groggily he rose from his bed, throwing on a robe against the chill air, and stumbled into the nearby room. Wearily he rubbed his face at the sight that greeted him there. His wife had once more unloaded all the drawers of clothing and was rearranging it, and the furniture, as she had done more than once earlier in the day.

"Thiri, can this not wait until morning?" he asked gently, trying to be patient, though part of him wanted to laugh hysterically.

"Oh, Eomer. I am sorry if I disturbed you, dearest. Do go back to bed. I just want to finish this. I will not be long." She did not look up from her task.

With a sigh, Eomer rubbed the back of his neck. At length, he returned to the bedchamber, stoked the fire and then sat down on the side of the bed. He felt like he should remain up with her, but she had displayed no interest in having him do so.

And, the truth was, he was not certain he could be of any help to her. Despite what he had witnessed earlier that day, when he returned to his bedchamber, he discovered not a lot was appreciably changed. For all the flurry of activity that had been taking place, Lothiriel had essentially put most things back exactly where they had been before. The room was definitely cleaner, and he had learned from Miren that his wife had done most of the scrubbing herself, insistent that no one else could do it to her satisfaction. Miren had kept her company, and made her rest regularly, but mostly she allowed this 'nesting' to run its course.

Slowly, the king laid back down and stared at the ceiling. He and Lothiriel wanted to have a lot of children. But if this was going to be a regular occurrence, perhaps he ought to rethink that intention! He wasn't at all sure he could survive his wife's madness before every birth!

Casting a final glance at the nursery, he rolled over and made himself relax until at last he drifted off to sleep once more.

xxxxx

Two days later, to Eomer's great relief, Lothiriel gave birth to a fine, healthy boy who they named Elfwine. All thoughts of cleaning, rearranging, organizing and folding seemed quickly forgotten by her, but as Eomer smiled down on his wife and child, and then stole a peek around the room, he could not restrain a grin. His wife was quite fond of teasing him; it appeared as though he had just acquired a new weapon so he could return fire occasionally!

THE END

3/28/06

**_End note:  It is best that you read the Elfwine Chronicles in the order they were written. The more of them that I wrote, the more likely I was to make reference to one of the previous ones and something that happened there. If you want to read them in order, go to the top of this page and click on my name (Deandra). That will take you to my profile page. Scroll down and you will find all the stories I have written. The Elfwine Chronicles are in order from bottom to top since ffn shows them in the order they were posted. A few were posted out of number order, but you can read them in posting order or number order since those few won't be affected in the story content._**


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